


Sentimental

by hopeandjoy



Series: Natsume Week 2017 [3]
Category: Natsume Yuujinchou | Natsume's Book of Friends
Genre: Character Study, Gen, Long Way Home arc, Madara is a tsundadre, May 17th: Favourite chapter/episode/arc, Natsume Week 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-17
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-11-01 18:12:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10927284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopeandjoy/pseuds/hopeandjoy
Summary: Unlike Natsume, who cries for a house and family he can barely remember, Madara is not sentimental.Or so he tells himself.





	Sentimental

Madara was never quite sure what to do when Natsume cried. Part of it was simply that he didn’t often understand why exactly Natsume cried when he did. Madara was not as nearly a compassionate being as Natsume was, nor did he dwell on the past nearly as much. After living as long as he had, there was little benefit to him doing as such.

It was not a wonder that this house where Natsume and his father had lived was being torn down; like many things humans had built, it had decayed rapidly. There was little left of its former residents other than crayon drawings strewn over the house where a sentimental parent had not had the heart to wash them away.

Natsume had barely any memories of this house, and yet he cried for it. Reiko had not been like that. As Madara and the other akayashi had known her, she had always kept her face carefully controlled, the most you would get out of her often was a frown. Her grandson had not received that gift.

But perhaps that was a good thing, Madara thought to himself. Reiko had kept her emotions hidden because there was no one she could feel weak around.

Natsume, on the other hand, was such a fool that he would let an akayashi who called him his prey sit next to him while he wept and sleep next to him while he slept.

Madara had not known Reiko’s daughter, but according to Natsume, she had once planted flowers in this garden. He had never wondered before what kind of woman she was, but Madara spared a thought for it now, just once.

Probably she was as sentimental as her son to be the type of person to plant flowers in hopes that a family that did not exist yet would see them. But she was probably also as strong as her mother, as Madara had heard over the years of how humans treated children without a father, and he doubted much had changed recently.

Natsume was no longer crying loud enough for Madara to hear him, but he still took the occasional shaky breath in his sadness. Before Madara could really consider what he was doing, he got up and lay against Natsume’s side before throwing all of his dignity and protests that he was not a cat aside and purring. Madara felt more than heard the hitch in Natsume’s breath before the boy moved his arm to stroke Madara’s back and covered his face in the arm below him.

Natsume had barely any memories of this house, but still cried. Madara had only known Reiko for a short moment in his long, long life, but he still thought of her. Madara knew that he would only know Natsume for the same short moment, the moment that might be the entire life for a human, for all Madara knew of their future, but was a tick on the clock of an akayashi’s life for Madara. But still Madara wanted to comfort him.

Natsume wasn’t the only final witness to this house.

And it seemed, Madara thought, that he wasn’t the only sentimental person here, either.


End file.
